a journal....a young man...and discovery.

Many years ago my mother began a daily habit of journaling. It was something she did not only for herself...but for us. She believed these scratchings would one day illuminate our lives....passed down to future generations...perhaps for her great great great grandchildren...to discover...like reading a book of their lives...or the lives of the ones that came before...

So, I too formed the habit. And shared this idea with others along the way.

One of the "others" is a young man name "k". His young life had been torn by drugs, crime...and a life that was not only hard on him...but the ones who loved him...who would be torn by his tormented life. What brought him to that state was all too typical...what brought him out, was not.

K began life as most...his home was normal in every fashion. His parents were loving...or at least thought so. He was well tended...and attended. But something in K was driven to the other side of life. He was drawn at an early age to things dark...and his choice of friends were darker. His parents were I believe perplexed...and sought every counsel they could...but K's life went deeper and deeper into disrepair. All of the hope began to dim...and even his parents could no longer bear the grief of watching their son...sink into the abyss...

Finally the lad found himself in so much trouble that his bravado...and his rage...could not longer hold him up against his own actions...he was incarcerated for one year...and that was the beginning of the end of his trail of trials.

While in this internment...he was counseled...analyzed...and given many lessons...his inmates were far worse than he...and his life seemed strange to even him...so K continued to slip into this darkness...holding on to the rage that filled him....rage he never quite understood.

When K was released he was without a home. His parents had given up on him...and his only place would be with some cousins who were not exactly role models themselves....

As it turns out...K came to work for my organization. Although he had been convicted and served time...he was hired. And that is when I met K.

At first K was very brash...and quite lazy. So...I set out to turn this around...but what began as a supervisor's...supervision...became something quite different.

One night K was being his moody self...and I was getting a little annoyed with the lad. So I pulled him aside and asked him to take a break with me. We went outside into the fresh air in the garden center...and I asked K what the problem was...and he said that he hated the job...hated his life...and began to tell me his story.

After listening to K...I told him if he picked up the pace a little...that I would make a bargain with him...K was intrigued...what bargain? Well...I said, "we will go about...building a bridge from your past to your future." K, was not impressed..."I don't have a future..." I smiled, "Oh yes you do...you just need to build the bridge."


The next night when K arrived for the night shift...I handed him a journal. He looked at me ...a bit put off...and said, " What am I suppose to do with this?" "Write in it.." I responded. K, looked at me with those brooding eyes of his...and said, "So this is the plan...forget it." And he walked away.

The next night I saw K sitting in the break room...watching TV, when he was suppose to be working. I walked up to the lad...asked him to see his journal...He didn't look up...he just said, "in the garbage can." I said..."you better go home now." And K said..."are you firing me?" I said, "no, I am telling you to go home." Come back tomorrow with the journal and a better attitude...or don't come back at all...your choice...make it..."

The next night K arrived with the journal...and he was not looking pleased...but he was there. So at break time...we went outside to the garden center...perched on the pile of bricks...I sat with K...and asked him to open the journal. The pages were blank...and that is when I pulled out my pen...and wrote on the first page..."The story of my life..."

K stared at the page...then looked at me with such anger...and angst. "I don't have a story...and I don't have a future...and you are full of shit." K started to get up...and I gently put my hand on his arm...and said, "not yet...I am not finished..." So, I continued to write..."my story is yet to be written...on these pages...I will write my future, the real story of my life..." K...was still. I handed him the journal and said..."Write your life...each day...write everything you do, even the simple things...just write..."

K said.."are you some counselor? I have been seen by the best! You think you can change my life?" I smiled and said..."Not at all K...you will change your life...you will write your life..." I placed the journal in K's hands...and then whispered in his ear..."your life is yours...no one else can write it, but you...it is yours...yours alone...now write your life..."

The next weeks K came in...no journal in hand...but his work began to improve...and I would work with him...and listen to his chatter about his friends...his family...and of course girl problems.

Finally about two months into our nightly breaks...never speaking of the journal...K brought it in for me to read...Every page filled with facts and stories of his daily routine...gossip...and little snipets of his thoughts on things...then finally I got to the last page he had written...it was about a conversation he had with his brother...and his anger toward him. K's words were harsh...and full of regret...jealousy and worse. K was looking inward...and saw in his brother...what he hated in himself....this entry would be the first of many such entries...and I knew that K was searching for what was in him...on the pages of his life. My only comment to K..."you have placed a brick onto your bridge...good going..." And with that, we returned to work...not speaking of the journal again for a couple of weeks."

Last night K came to work...and this time he was smiling...and something else...he was clean...haha. So it was at break time...we retreated to the garden center...and K pulled out the now worn journal...and handed it to me. He said, "turn to the last page." So I turned to the last page dutifully...

Here were the words..."I was offered a job as a mechanic today, and I am going to take it. It turns out I am very good with cars, and I am going to be training to get my certification. I discovered I love working on engines, and that is what I want to do. My father is going to pay for school, and I am going to become an aviation mechanic."

I looked up at K...from this worn journal...and put my arm around the lad..."So...you are leaving me K..." His head bowed down..."I built my bridge...time to go." I smiled then whispered in K's ear..."one day I will fly on one of the planes you work on...make sure I am safe." We got up and walked back into the store...silent...these next few nights will be my last with K...but I do believe the lad is now building his bridge...and it was a little journal that took him there...and I hope that he writes the pages of his life...the rest of his life.

So...El Cid, your habit is now handed down...to a young man named K...who will, I am sure...write a very good story...

Love,
The Lass

Oh...and something else...I am giving K a new journal as a going away gift. Something tells me that K has become quite chatty in his writing...maybe one day his children...his grandchildren...and their grandchildren...will be reading about this man...who built a bridge...one page at a time.